


The Best Things Happen When You're Dancing

by BelovedCreation



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Swing Dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-28
Updated: 2015-01-28
Packaged: 2018-03-09 12:00:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3248882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BelovedCreation/pseuds/BelovedCreation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emma Swan is at a swing dance festival weekend for some fun with her friends. When she meets Killian Jones on the dance floor, sparks fly and the dance floor sizzles with their chemistry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Best Things Happen When You're Dancing

**Author's Note:**

> Not sure where this came from. I've wanted to do Emma and Killian as swing dancers for ages (I danced all through college) but never knew how to do it. This story just happened last night and before I knew it I had 3440 words!

The soft music floats out of the ballroom and Emma is already on the tips of her toes, itching to get inside and start dancing.

"Oh, I love this one," Mary Margaret smiles, turning in line to catch Emma's eye. She wraps her arm around Emma's lower back and rotates her in several tight circles before using Emma's momentum to lead her into a slight dip, their thighs pressing together as the blonde's back swoops down, around, and up again. They grin at one another in glee, unable to contain their excitement about the weekend to come.

David rests his head on Mary Margaret's shoulder and gives her a side-eye. "I thought I got the first dance tonight?" he teases gently.

"Sorry dear," she shoots back. "You're still my favorite dance partner." The petite woman releases Emma and leans against David's chest, eyes fluttering shut in contentment.

"Good grief you guys, are you going to be like this all weekend?" Emma asks.

"Probably," Graham sighs, adjusting the frayed backpack hanging from his shoulder. "I told you we should have gotten separate rooms."

Emma purses her mouth shut, lest she remind Graham of that late night at their last swing dance workshop weekend when he made a drunken move on her in the middle of the dance floor. She can still feel her skin crawl from his whiskey-soaked lips pressing against her neck and his hands leaving her back to squeeze her rear.

"Its cheaper if we room together," David reminds Graham with a flash in his blue eyes. David had witnessed the whole thing and hasn't been as jovial with Graham as he had before the incident. Emma loves her best friend dearly, but sometimes it is better if he drops the whole  _knight in shining armor_  act and stops trying to protect ever girl in the swing dance community.

It takes another song (this one fast and snappy and making Emma shake her hip to the beat) before the foursome is signed in at the check-in table. With the weekend schedule of classes and dances in their hands, they make their way into the dimmed ballroom and hunt for a clump of seats to set down their dance bags. By the band is always the best, and Emma leads the way to the right of the stage. She plops down on the floor and fishes her water bottle out of her bag, taking a long sip to pre-hydrate and then finds her Keds. Her outside flats come off and are replaced by the sturdy canvas shoes. Emma laces them up and is already feeling that sliver of excitement work its way up her spine. She gets to spend all night dancing and watching dancing and then at the workshops tomorrow she'll be taking great classes and learning new things, followed by even more dancing at night! For the past three years the four of them have been attending workshop weekends around the region, meeting new dancers and spending entirely too much money on vintage-inspired clothing and private lessons.

 _Swing Storybrooke_  is a new event, but one that boasts a few impressive teachers, like Regina Mills and her partner Robin Locksley. Regina does these swing-outs that are so fast Emma swears they must be magic. The duo is teaching a fast Lindy Hop class on Saturday and Emma can hardly wait to learn from the Queen of Swing herself.

"What do you say?" Graham asks, holding out a hand. She takes it and pulls herself up with a grin.

"I say we dance, mister."

The song is a moderate tempo: good for warming up and getting Emma's blood flowing. She relaxes instantly into the groove of the dance and into her partner. Graham's always had a thing for her, which should make partnering together awkward, but it seems to make it better. Graham's not a guy of many words. He flirts via dance, and he's almost had Emma convinced at times. When he leads her into the first swingout, she feels that full feeling in her chest you can only get from the electric combination of tension and release over and over again. They've danced together so often that she effortlessly follows him, almost anticipating his moves and smiling the whole song.

She hasn't danced in weeks, and it feels  _good_.

When the band finishes, they break away and clap. Emma tries to ignore the flush on Graham's face and the feeling in her gut that says its more than just the exercise.

"Thanks for the dance," she says graciously.

"You know, we could-" Graham begins, but she cuts him off with a squeal and a jump.

"Elsa!"

The willowy blonde dashes halfway across the ballroom and launches herself into Emma's arms. "Emma, I've missed you!" she shrieks.

"I've missed you too! Oh, we have to dance."

Elsa grabs her by the arm and pulls her to the other side of the stage, far from Graham's ears. She places her hand on the small of Emma's back and begins jockeying lightly, shifting their weight back and forth.

"You look fantastic," Emma gushes, looking at Elsa's high-waisted sailor pants and striped shirt. "Wish I could pull this look off."

Elsa spins Emma twice and leads her into a swingout just as strong and freeing as Graham's. "What are you talking about, babe? That little black dress is adorable." Elsa is a fun, playful lead, constantly moving Emma in new and interesting patterns, often breaking away to do solo moves facing one another. Dancing with Elsa is always surprising and often leads Emma to discover new moves she would never have thought of on her own. By the time the song is over, Emma is clutching her aching side as she and Elsa laugh at a strange hip shimmy they had developed.

"Elsa," David smiles, returning to their seats at the same time as the blondes. "So good to see you." He gives Elsa a hug and makes eye contact with Emma. "Can I have the next dance?" he asks.

Emma pats his shoulder and teases. "Are you sure you can pull yourself away from the love of your life?"

David sticks out his tongue and tilts his head toward his girlfriend, who is twirling around the dance floor with a dark-haired man. "We ran into Killian out there. I'm surprised she even let me finish my second dance with her."

Emma raises her eyebrows and she and David line up and start dancing. "Ah, the mysterious Killian Jones from  _Pirate Dance_  in Boston, huh? I can't believe you didn't just dance with him yourself after all the raving you've been doing about his swivels and musicality."

David glares and turns her a few extra times (in spite, obviously). "I'll have you know that I'm still working on following."

"If Killian's as good as you say then I'm sure he can lead someone as horrible as you."

When the song finishes, David knocks the wind out of her lungs with a trip dip and Emma is reminded once again how much people seem to underestimate her mild-mannered friend.

\---

"How have you been doing, Killian?" Mary Margaret smiles up at him and Killian cannot help but smile back. The tiny dancer is one of the lightest follows he has ever had the pleasure of partnering with, and she puts a simple grace into every move. He always feels that Mary Margaret makes him a better dancer by her mere presence.

"I've been doing very well, m'lady."

"You know," she gets a glint his her eye that spells out trouble before her sentence is finished, "Emma is here this weekend too. I think you two would really hit it off."

Killian groans and leads her into a smooth tuck turn, relishing the little kick she adds. "If I didn't know any better, I would say you are trying to set me up with your friend."

She executes a flawless Suzie Q and grins, dimples flashing deep on her cheeks. "Is there anything wrong with that?"

"There is when your friend came with another gentleman, love."

Mary Margaret flicks her wrist dismissively. "Graham came with us so we'd always have dance partners. She doesn't like him that way." Her eyes narrow. "Any other excuses?"

Killian's blue eyes narrow in return and he would be quite peeved with the woman if she were not so infuriatingly adorable. "There is the simple matter of having never met the woman."

"I have a feeling you two are going to hit it off."

Like a proper gentleman, Killian escorts Mary Margaret back to her seat at the conclusion of the dance. He exchanges a hug with David and shakes hands with a Graham and an Elsa before the latter two skip out to the dance floor.

"So," Killian claps his hands and looks at David and Mary Margaret expectantly, "where is the mysterious Miss Swan, woman of my dreams?"

David lays his arm on Mary Margaret's shoulder in such an easy manner that it is obvious this is an old, comfortable habit. "You just missed her, Jones. She went to go get her number for the Jack and Jill." He glances down at his watch. "They're due to start any minute."

Killian offers a short bow. "Then you will have to excuse me, for I have a number of my own to pin on."

Some people are filled with anxiety when they prepare for Jack and Jill competitions, where leads and followers are randomly paired together and judged on their ability to dance socially with different partners. But Killian has always been energized by the challenge. It gives him the opportunity to get to know the best dancers in the room and show off his own talents on the dance floor.

(Not that he is a show off.)

(Alright, maybe he is.)

Number securely fastened to his back by an extremely helpful redhead (who needs Dave and Mary Margaret to set him up when a pretty little thing's fingers are lingering on his back?), Killian jogs towards the cleared-off dance floor and hops in the line of (mostly) men preparing for the start of the competition, facing a long line of follows.

"Alright, if all of our contestants are here, we will have the leads move five partners to the right." Dutifully, the men move down the line and shake hands with their new partners.

"Let's find a place on the floor, shall we love?" Killian smiles at a leggy brunette with red streaks in her hair. The first number is a medium tempo and he enjoys this dance with the woman who introduces herself as Ruby. She does these intricate little steps on their swing outs and her syncopations are different. When the band finishes and he escorts her back to the line, Killian requests another dance later in the night and she agrees with a toothy smile.

"This time the leads will move down three."

_One._

_Two._

_...Whoa._

The first thing he notices about her is the long, dark lashes blinking at him rapidly. The movement stops and her eyes widen, gray-green irises staring at him. Killian feels his heart catch in his throat as he processes the soft apples of her cheeks, the lovely pink of her parted lips, the elegant column of her throat accented by the way her long blonde curls are swept up, and the delicate lines of her collarbones revealed by the scoop neck of her embroidered black dress.

"The music's starting." She steps close to him and rests her left hand on his forearm. Automatically, he raises the arm and cradles her back, finding that connection that provides a delightful tension.

The second song is softer, smoother, and certainly sexier.

"Do you blues, love?" he asks, referring to the more freeform style where partners are closer than Lindy Hop, wondering why his voice is so rough. She nods, curls slightly bouncing, and he pulls her tighter. Hips slightly offset, their thighs press against one another and it is electric from the start. Killian feels the music thrumming through his veins and she must feel it as well, for they are hitting the same high notes and pausing at the same moments. She is a livewire in his arms, humming with energy but understanding when to explode and when to simmer.

And through it all, they never lose eye contact.

It is the most sensual dance of his life and when he lowers her into a final dip, Killian has to refrain himself from kissing her lovely neck, settling for wondering it it would taste like the salt of her sweat.

"Thank you," she murmurers as he leads her back to the double line.

He inclines his head. "T'was my pleasure."

Killian doesn't need to request a dance later that night. (If anything, he is wondering if he will be able to dance with anyone  _else_.)

The final song for this heat is the fast number and he is partnered with a strawberry blonde named Anna who is a touch spastic, but in such good spirits that Killian has fun, despite the lower marks he expects to receive from the judges. At their return to the line, his eye strays four to his right, were the enticing blonde is chuckling with another blonde, this one a lead in blue trousers.

Killian spends several minutes nodding along with Anna's chattering and sneaking glances at his former partner before the judges call the numbers for the final heat. When number 15 is announced, he feels his heart beat faster than when his own number is proclaimed.

As luck would have it, #8 and #15 are paired together for the final round. He and the woman will have half a song to dance ("all skate style" they call it) before they will be called forward as individual pairs to perform for eight measures ("spotlights").

"Fancy meeting you again," he laughs, having regained a bit of himself after his initial shock.

"It is the same competition, so not such a surprise," she responds, raising an eyebrow.

Killian mirrors her and escorts the pair away from where he knows David and Mary Margaret are cheering in the crowd. No need for them to see him flirting with another woman, not with the two trying to set him up with their friend Emma.

"The surprising, darling, is that we are paired together for a second time in one competition. It must be fate." He gives her his most dashing smile and she responds by breaking away and doing this enticing thing with her hips that it takes him a moment to recover from.

"Just dance, Prince Charles."

Feeling a slight to his future soverign, Killian purses his lips and closes her mouth, focusing on wowing the judges (and, quite frankly, wowing this woman.)

They had been fantastic in the preliminaries but here, with the very best dancers in the room twirling around them and the heat on his cheeks after their banter, he can feel a change that catapults them into  _spectacular_. He knows it and, judging by the sparkle in her eye, she knows it as well.

They breeze through the all-skate, anticipating one another's every move. Some couples make the mistake of dancing for an audience during a Jack and Jill. But that is not what this competition is about - it is about dancing with new partners and working well together. Killian dances with her,  _for_  her. The audience gives him energy, but all his focus is straight at the blonde with fabulous swivels and a steady pulse.

When the couples are swept into a line to await the spotlights, Killian feels a lump of disappointment in his chest that they must pause their dancing. Like the other pairs in their row, waiting their turn to shine, Killian keeps his arm wrapped around her waist, bouncing in place, maintaining connection to his partner and connection to the music. Her own impatience to get back on the floor feeds into his, and when the eight measures of the couple before them are up, they burst out onto the floor, the last and certainly the best.

The audience coos and cries. He even thinks he hears Mary Margaret call out his name and David whoop. Their swingouts are tight. Their footwork is precise. And when the rest of the band drops away and the trumpet blasts a brassy solo, they do a complicated spin-dip-turn-lift that brings the audience to its feet and secures their victory.

They fly back to the line and all the dancers erupt into the beginning of the popular California routine, a line of fabulous dancers doing swingouts and the followers cheekily waving to the adoring crowd. The band concludes the song with a flourish and the blonde's head is thrown back, her body pressed flush against his, one leg hitched around his waist and the other pointed parallel to the ground, creating a beautiful line. He can feel her heart beat against his own and her wide smile betrays how much she loved dancing with him, how much it thrilled her too. She breaths heavily, cheeks flushed and sweat beading on her forehead.

"Thanks for the dance," she pants, still pasted to his front.

"I told you it would be my pleasure."

Slowly (reluctantly?) she brings her feet back to the ground, holding up her own weight. The blonde takes a step back and wipes her brow with the back of her arm, still catching her breath, eyes finally leaving his with a gentle lowering of her long lashes.

Killian tugs a clean handkerchief out of his back pocket and offers it to the woman. She hesitates, fingers floating in the air above the black scrap of cloth. "How gentlemanly."

"Love, I'm always a gentleman," he replies with a grin.

She snorts and takes the handkerchief and presses it to her forehead, the back of her neck, and, after a sharp look at him, into the creamy space between her breasts.

(Oh, that he were a handkerchief.)

"Thanks," she holds out the cloth but he waves her away.

"Keep it. I always bring several for weekend events. You can give it back to me next time we dance."

"What makes you think there's gonna be a next time?"

He takes back the space she put between them, inhaling the sweetness of her perfume and the sharp smell of sweat and desire coming off her in waves. "Lass, after the dances we've just shared, you will not be able to keep away."

The long lashes of hers flutter again and her lips part most invitingly. Killian has to shove his hand into his pocket to keep from giving into the sexual tension and kissing the hell out of her.

To his shock, she takes hold of one of his suspenders and rubs up and down in a manner quite suggestive. "Please," she scoffs, eyebrow raised and eyes lit with a fire. "You couldn't handle more than two dances with me."

He opens his mouth to respond and is cut off by the emcee announcing the winning couples.

Ruby and that Graham fellow are awarded third place. His friend Will (who is most certainly drunk off his ass) secures second place with a woman Killian doesn't recognize.

"And in first place, number 8 and number 15-" But their names are drowned out by the cheer of the crowd and Killian and the woman step forward to receive their trophies, hands slipping into one another as if by habit. He gives the audience a short bow and she dips into a sweet curtsy. The event concluded, the announcer cues the band to begin their next song and the floor fills with dancers eager to move again.

He spots David and Mary Margaret rushing towards him, grinning with glee. He holds his trophy aloft and smiles, but to his utter surprise, Mary Margaret embraces the blonde who is still clutching his hand, breaking their connection. David pulls Killian in for a hug, clapping him on the back, eyes twinkling when they pull away.

"I told you that you and Emma would hit it off!" Mary Margaret beams before giving Killian a hug of his own.

Killian's throat constricts and he isn't sure he is capable of breathing, much less speaking.

"Wait-" the woman sputters, " _this_  is Killian Jones?"

He swallows and recovers, taking her hand back again and placing a gentle kiss on her knuckle (the tingle on his lips and the way her breathing catches only making him grin harder and wonder at his luck). "At your service, Miss Swan."


End file.
